


Team QRTZ

by WildBaugh



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen, RWBY OC - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 03:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18438182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildBaugh/pseuds/WildBaugh
Summary: The Story of a dysfunctional team learning to be better at Beacon Academy.





	Team QRTZ

**Quentin Sacquet ******

Crack!  
The whip of force from his father’s outstretched hand twisted Quentin’s head to one side sharply. He staggered back, massaging the cheek with one hand whilst the other picked his father’s hunting rifle up, the stock having sunk into the mud. ‘What in the hell do you think you’re playing at Quentin? Two of those... things tear through a wall into our house, kill your dear mother and run off into the forest and you’re just gonna let our only chance at killing them get clogged up?’ 

Quentin grasped the weapon with both hands to hold it up, tears streaming down his face. His father had never been afraid of disciplining his son, especially in a drunken state like this, but since they’d both found their home destroyed he’d been in a rage unlike any other. And his mother-  
‘Stop crying boy! I bet your constant whinging was what attracted those cursed beasts to our house in the first place! If I had a just mind I would’ve sent you away years ago to a proper school, toughen you up. Then maybe your mother wouldn’t be dead!’

Unsurprisingly this did nothing to make Quentin feel better. Gasping in emotional pain this time he bit back sobs, not wanted to encourage more beration from his father.

‘Give me that.’ His father took the rifle, wrenching it from his sons hands and fumbling to load a round with it’s lever action slide. ‘I’d like to see those bastards escape one of these.’ He staggered forward, scanning with his rifle, but Quentin remained still, unable to look his father in the eye as he held onto the tree behind him, taking solace in the unmoving wood. 

It was then that he noticed the slight rustle in the trees. Before he could react a creature of obsidian black skin and bleached white bone tore through the thick foliage before him, blazing red eyes seeming to pierce through him. The creature charged forward, before raising up onto its hind legs and towering over the petrified boy. It raised a huge clawed hand skywards, the wolf-like visage leering down at him with pure hatred, bringing it down to claim another kill. In a final, futile guesture Quentin raised a hand, turning his head away in horror. 

It took a few seconds for him to realise that the Beowulf hadn’t torn him limb from limb. He looked up to see that the monster had fallen back down to all fours, it’s head level with his. The monster dipped its head in submission, and leant forward towards Quentin. In morbid fascination he leant forward, the outstretched hand to rest against the skull of the beast. But before he could the creature’s head snapped to one side, and Quentin watched the bullet tear free from the side of the creature’s neck. 

Killed in one shot the Beowulf slumped to the floor, the gentle hiss of its skin dissolving to dust and the wed thud of the bullet casing embedding in the floor were the only sounds in the deathly quiet forest. Shaking in fear Quentin turned to see his father, rifle barrel still smoking, swaying as he stared at the corpse of the animal. 

‘It... it didn’t kill you.’ 

‘Father... what was that?’ 

His father looked back up, eyes wide and twitching, a crazed purpose taking hold in his mind. ‘Witchcraft...’ before his son could react he wrenched back the lever of his rifle, thumbing another cartridge into the empty barrel and locking the mechanism back in with a sickening clunk. He raised the weapon, muddy stock nestled in his shoulder. 

‘Dad?’ Instinctively Quentin ducked as the bark behind him erupted into splinters, the bullet missing his head by millimetres. ‘You bastard! You did this!’  
‘Dad no!’ Quentin finally acted, turning and running as another bullet slammed into the rifle’s chamber, running from his drunken father’s third round. 

‘You killed her! You made those things kill my darling Justine!’ A fourth bullet rammed into the chamber, before ejecting and blowing his son’s eardrum as it whistled past with deadly force. Stumbling forward Quentin didn’t even reply, his fear propelling him onwards. 

Then his foot refused. Sinking into the wet mud underfoot his right foot wrenched against the rest of his body, sending him tumbling to the floor and twisting his ankle. Screaming in pain he crawled through the mud, pulling his leg behind him as his father’s boots thudded behind him. A hand grabbed at his shoulder, roughly turning him around to come face to face with his father’s barrel. Pulling the lever back once more he dropped his fifth bullet into the floor, cursing as he fumbled to load a sixth into chamber, slamming the lever back into place. ‘This is for Justine.’

‘Dad... I’m your son...’ 

‘Not anymore.’ He raised the weapon, finger curling around the trigger, before the bush to his side erupted with darkness. A black shadow with flashes of white stormed across, landing on the other side of the father and son. The second Beowulf turned to stare at Quentin, it’s eyes burning red fading to a soft blue. Tearing his eyes away from the now seemingly harmless creature, Quentin looked to his father. Wordlessly he staggered backwards, he rifle slipping from numb fingers as he clasped the thick grooves in his throat, blood seeping out from inside. 

‘Oh.’

‘Dad!’ Quentin pulled himself over to his dad as he collapsed, his body sinking slightly into the mud. 

‘Justine... I’ll be there soon’ He gasped with his last breath, sagging as he gave in to his mortal wounds. Quentin couldn’t even reply, pulling his head back and sobbing freely, screaming in anguish. Behind him, the Beowulf also leant back, howling into the sky, the two joined in a harmony of pain that could be felt by the whole forest.


End file.
